Uncertainty
by dontwaitupxx
Summary: The Nogitsune is gone, banished from the world. In its absence, it leaves the shadow of a boy, fighting to live on his own. In the midst of it, the boy and a girl explore the phenomenon of relationships. Beacon Hills seems at peace, but perhaps even that is uncertain. Alternate take on season three, episode twenty-two :: de-void.
1. Chapter 1

Uncertainty

A Teen Wolf Fan Fiction

By: dontwaitupxx

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

**Special thanks to Sara Ruhl's _Eurydice_ for the first line of the story.

* * *

There was a roar, and a coldness. Suddenly, Stiles vision reappeared in full splendor and the vile presence of the Nogitsune fell from the entirety of his mind, down each vertebrae of his spine and settled into the pit of his stomach. Naturally, his stomach rejected the demon and sent it up his throat and out his mouth.

Stiles wasn't breathing. He wasn't breathing because as his body rejected the Nogitsune, tape covered his mouth and kept the Nogitsune from getting out. It was a final struggle, him against the demon, and the demon's last play of the game happened to be a single piece of tape covering the mouth of its host that may or may not have been intentional. Stiles grabbed at the tape, one final fight against the ferocious fiend. He won, ripping it off and retched. Out of his mouth came the gauze of the demon's true form, endlessly trailing. The gauze emitted a black fog, the spirit of the Nogitsune attempting to find ground in the human world. And Stiles kept vomiting. And Stiles still wasn't breathing. Tears welled up in his eyes and a couple trailed downward at the lack of air. Nothing else left his mouth besides the gauze because the Nogitsune never once drank or ate while occupying Stiles' body. Finally, the end of the gauze left his mouth, tied at the end with a knot. Stiles sucked in a breath, only for his stomach to heave and attempt to empty itself. He looked up, breathing difficultly, and saw the remains of the Nogitsune nearly rise up and vanish into the black fog, ceasing to exist, at least from the human world.

He had won. The Nogitsune was gone.

At this, the true weight of the world dropped on him and he fell on his side, shivering with a small smile on his shaking lips.

"Stiles!" Scott was bent down in front of him, and trying to pull him upright. Melissa, swatting him away, kept him on the ground and checked for a pulse.

"Scott, go grab some blankets, he's going into shock," Melissa said, her eyes catching on Stiles' dry lips and taking note, "When was the last time that Stiles had food or water?"

As far as any of them knew, it could have been days since Stiles had anything to eat or drink. Instantly, Melissa had her phone out and was moving Stiles to lay him down on his back. Scott came by with the blankets and began piling them on Stiles, tucking them in around his sides and underneath him. Lydia had gone around the couch and sat by Stiles' head, pulling it onto her lap to give it some leverage.

Melissa was calling for an ambulance. Scott tried to get his best friend's attention, but his gaze was set off behind him, looking at nothing, body still struggling as shivers shook and strangled him. Despite his shaky breathing, the tips of Stiles' chapped lips were turning blue. Scott brought his hand up to Stiles' neck, the only body part besides his head that wasn't cocooned under the blankets, and tried to take away as much pain as he could, only to find that there was a lack of pain. There wasn't much of anything in Stiles, really. His body was weak, too weak, in fact, and the only thing that Scott could feel on his skin was the clammy fever that was coursing through his body, so he focused on that, the fever, and found a source to pull from. The Nogitsune had sure done a number on Stiles, invading it and using more energy than Stiles could naturally supply, not feeding it, and then being violently expelled, leaving behind a weakened human.

Melissa hung up her phone, turning her attention towards Stiles, who was blinking slowly and staring off at the wall, "Stiles, honey, can you hear me?" Stiles slowly brought his gaze towards her, looking at her without really seeing her, "Stiles, I need you to hang on for me, an ambulance will be here soon. Can you talk to me? Tell me what you're feeling?"

Stiles opened his mouth, and looked like he was about to speak, but instead, a cry escaped and his eyes rolled into the back of his head, showing off the whites of his eyes. He began contracting in on himself, all the while shaking.

Scott panicked, "Mom – mom! – what's happening? Is he having a panic attack?"

"No, Scott. Stiles isn't having a panic attack – he's having a seizure. Move him onto his side and _don't _hold him down," They moved Stiles onto his side as his body shook and seized unconsciously. Lydia's hands ghosted over his form, wanting to touch him, but not knowing where. A few silent tears strolled down her cheeks.

Scott looked up and saw Peter standing in the corner, not exactly looking like he cared, but looking a little more down than usual. But Scott could have sworn that someone else was there… someone else…

"Deaton ran back to his office, in cause you were wondering," Peter piped up, leaning back against the wall, "He needed to check some sources to make sure that the Nogitsune won't come back."

Scott looked back town to Stiles as his seizure started to come to a close, Stiles only having a few shudders and shakes through the aftermath, "Mom, what's going on? Why is Stiles having a seizure?"

"Scott, he could be reacting like this for any number of reasons," his mother said sharply, making Scott recoil slightly, "Supernaturally, he's having a seizure because the Nogitsune just left his body and he is weak, from lack of food and water. As far as the paramedics are going to know, he has been missing for the past few days, which is actually true, and hasn't eaten or had water since then."

Lydia's fingers had found their way into Stiles' hair, lightly tugging at it in a comforting way, a way that was more comforting to herself than to the boy. She was going through things that people their age shouldn't have ever had to gone through, all of them had. She was anxious because she had grown closer to the boy in the last few weeks, closer than she would have ever thought possible, especially since this time the year before, he had never even crossed her radar. She knew it sounded corny and stereotypical of her, but she found herself drawn to him, drawn in a way that she wouldn't dare admit to herself was in an attraction, but she was drawn to him, and the precariousness of the moment with Stiles' life on the line was enough to make her realize exactly what he meant to her. It wasn't love, no matter how much it might have felt like it. A relationship many a time can be masked under the impression of love, but it wasn't love.

It was close, however.

She realized then that there was a certain need that had manifested itself in their relationship, and whether or not he felt it from his end, she sure as hell felt it from hers. Deaton was right; they did have a special bond. She wanted to further explore that bond but she wouldn't be able to if Stiles didn't hold out on his part. And it was scary, this feeling of uncertainty.

But perhaps that's what makes life exciting.

As if on cue, Stiles' eyes began to flutter open, glassy eyes making an appearance but not seeing anything in particular. Lydia gasped, the steady stream of tears never ceasing, and Scott's mother began to move Stiles onto his back, using the leverage on his head from Lydia's lap to lift his eyelids up and look at his pupils.

"Stiles – Stiles! Can you hear me?" Melissa tried again, and this time, she received the most miniscule of a nod from Stiles. Sirens could be heard faintly by the werewolves in the room and Scott estimated that it would be another thirty seconds until the humans could hear it, and roughly two minutes until the paramedics would be inside. Scott went up to prop open the front door.

"Is Stiles having another seizure?" Scott heard Lydia cry from behind him, and turned around to see Stiles form shaking violently.

"No honey, this is different than a seizure. He's just shivering. His body is beginning to run a fever from the violent reaction to the Nogitsune," His mother answered, putting a hand on Stiles' forehead.

At that moment, the sounds of sirens could be heard by both Melissa and Lydia and Melissa let out a laugh of relief, running her fingers through Stiles' hair, "You're going to be just fine, sweetie," she said, as more of a consolation to the rest of the room.

Scott kneeled down next to his best friend, and Stiles' glassy eyes turned towards him, a faint form of recognition in his eyes, "S-S-Scott?"

Scott smiled in a pitiful kind of way, "Welcome back, buddy."

A wave of shivers went through Stiles' form, "I don't – I – I don't – re -,"

"Shh," Scott consoled, "It's okay: the paramedics are going to be here any second."

And they were. In rushed a group of paramedics and Scott was pushed to the side and off against the wall and somehow found himself holding a sobbing Lydia. Melissa was running things through with the paramedics, like how Stiles had been missing for the past few days, had just had a seizure, was running a fever, and was dehydrated and famished. Lydia sobbed against his chest, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to deal with Stiles actually being back, and so he just held her, knowing she needed this. The paramedics came and went in a blur, and before he knew it, his mother was knelt in front of him, mouth moving, but no sounds coming out. He hadn't noticed it before, but in lieu of sounds a soft ringing was present, holding him to the ground. In a blur, his mother left his vision, and in a split second, she was back, holding a glass of water to him.

This time he heard her, "Drink. I don't need two more minors going into shock in my house," He hadn't noticed it before, but Lydia was handed a glass of water as well. Instead of curled into him, she had sat up and was leaned against the wall next to him, visibly just as emotionally drained as he was. He took a sip of the water and then held it out in front of him.

Somewhere in all the chaos, Peter had vanished as well, which was fine with Scott, seeing as he wouldn't contribute much anyways to Stiles' wellbeing.

Lydia leaned her head against Scott's shoulder, sighing and closing her eyes. There was no rush to get to the hospital; it would naturally take a few hours for the hospital staff to let them see Stiles and even then, Stiles needed his sleep: lord knows he needed it. And Stiles was going to be just fine, he was in good hands.

Scott looked up to see his mother on the phone again, talking in hushed tones. Rather than using his werewolf senses to eavesdrop, he turns it off, leaning his head against Lydia's and closing his eyes.

It was really strange in a way. All of the danger had been eradicated from Beacon Hills, and there was nothing he really had to worry about. At least for now, but those were the magic words: for now. Because really, living in the now is one of the best ways to achieve true happiness, and in the very least, Scott could say that he had true tranquility. They would check on Stiles in a few hours, because for once, there was nothing else to worry about.

Scott took out his phone and sent out a mass text to the rest of the pack, simply stating, _Meet me at my house whenever you can. The Nogitsune is gone_, and left it at that.

He sighed, stretching his long legs out in front of him, and smiled. As dreary as things had been looking up until that point, the sun was just coming over the horizon. It was funny, continuing on with this metaphor, how the sun was actually setting below the mountains through the windows, but that was beside the point. Actually, Scott could make that work: the sun was setting on that moment in their lives. When the sun rose next, he could only hope that it would bring anything but hard times for him and his pack. With that in mind, he closed his eyes, and dreamed about his pack being killed off one by one…

* * *

End of Chapter One


	2. Chapter 2

Uncertainty

A Teen Wolf Fan Fiction

By: dontwaitupxx

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

Stiles had lost some weight while under the influence of the Nogitsune: twenty pounds, in fact. Enough to make doctors question how so much weight could be lost while being lost for two days. They had him set up to a nutritional IV in the four days that he was unconscious while in the hospital – no doubt his body taking whatever sleep that it could muster.

When Stiles woke up for the first time in the hospital, he awoke to see Lydia seated in a chair sleeping propped up with her arms on his bed. He assumed it was night time or early morning: his clue was a darkened window with no light coming through. That, and the lights above him were out. Visiting hours were clearly over, and he smiled a sort of sleep-clogged smile; he briefly wondered how many nurses and doctors she threatened to let her stay here with him, but then he realized that Mrs. McCall probably had a way of sneaking her in if she were so adamant to. He lightly ran a finger across one her eyebrows. Both eyebrows furrowed together comfortably, before she opened her eyes to see a boy, alive and well, staring back at her.

"Good morning," Stiles said lightly, voice dim with sleep.

"Stiles-" Her voice had the same effect of sleep in it, "How are you feeling?"

A dry laugh, "Tired. Achy. Like I haven't moved around in quite some time."

A half-smile, like a halted laugh, "The Nogitsune is gone; what's the last thing you remember?"

Stiles contemplated the question, "I remember throwing up the demon and choking on it… I remember it being gone… then I remember seeing you, Scott, and his mom… that's the last thing that I remember."

The half-smile dissolved, "Scott's mom called an ambulance, and then you had a seizure. Scott's mom told the doctors that it was because you hadn't had food or water in days, which is only about half true. The doctors… they've been suggesting an eating disorder with you, because they can't explain the weight loss… you've lost like twenty pounds. We can't explain to them that you've had a demon in you for the last couple of weeks."

A beat, "How do _I _explain it to them? What's my version of this story?"

"You tell them you went into the woods on a hike and that you got lost. The only way that we can explain the weight loss is that it has been happening slowly over time."

A yawn, "…okay."

"Stiles?"

"Lydia?"

"…I'm glad you're back."

"It feels good to be back."

"I…" Lydia's voice faltered slightly, cracking under emotions, "God – you scared me so badly back there, Stiles: back at Scott's house when you were freezing and seizing up and – _My God_ – I thought you were dying and that I wasn't going to be able to tell you… _God…_" The tears were free flowing down her cheeks, a few stray hic-cups being added in the mix. She knew she shouldn't be crying, he had just woken up for Christ's sake. He was probably still incredibly disoriented from the entire ordeal, but she needed to say it, because she knew she probably wouldn't have the balls to say it to him later, "You… you just mean so much to me, and I am positively _frightened_ when you're not here with me. I have _no clue _why I felt like if you stopped breathing, that I would too. I don't know what to make of this Stiles Stillinski, because _you're something_ and I don't know what you are. You're something so goddamned special and for Christ's sake, I don't know what it is!"

She looked up finally and saw his eyes, and they were twinkling around the edges, a sort of mystery she had never been able to uncover, and a sort of magic that she felt right in the pit of her stomach that she hadn't felt from someone since grade school. He was still sore from being still, and his arms hurt slightly from the IV's coming out of his wrists, but he didn't care. He patted the small space next to him on the bed, and without a question or a comment, Lydia crawled up there with him and held him like the world was about to rip him away from her any second.

He might have been the one in the hospital bed, but at that moment in time, she was the one that needed attention. He was glad to help her; he loved her. She thought he was something. It was a start, and he was more than happy to explore that something with her, whatever that may be. He was something to her and that was more than enough for him.

That being said, he was still groggy, and might have misinterpreted everything she had said. But when her lips came down on his forehead, he knew he couldn't misinterpret the way they felt when they were on his skin, or the way they left a small bit on condensation on his forehead. It made his head spin.

He smiled and held her, "Get some sleep," he said, right as exhaustion took them both.

* * *

It had been a couple of days since they had gotten rid of the Nogitsune, but Scott was having an uneasy feeling about where things were going. He had been having various nightmares every time he fell asleep since that first time he had fallen asleep next to Lydia. What was even more unsettling were the visions he would get during the day while he was awake: he would just be writing a paper, and suddenly, his mind would move to a vision of something happening to his pack. They ranged with complexity, being as simple as members of his pack moving away without explanation, to his pack being burned alive before his eyes. Either way, all of the nightmares and visions involved his pack leaving him forever, and it made him uneasy. He couldn't explain it.

He went to Deaton to try and get a feasible explanation for the nightmares, and Deaton tried to lightly mention that perhaps it was because of all of the stress that had happened within the last few days. Scott had argued and stormed out after that. He wouldn't be having such vivid, scary dreams because of _stress; _all of the stress was finally over. He felt as though there was something supernatural going on about the nightmares.

Deaton had been the only one he had told: why tell his pack that he, as the alpha, had been having nightmares of his pack being killed? His inner wolf refused to tell them. They finally seemed to be out of the woods; things were actually at peace for once.

But his pack would sense his uneasiness. Isaac, in particular, seemed especially fidgety around him and would constantly ask him if he were okay, or if something were bothering him. This uneasiness got to be too much for Isaac, and one day in particular, as the bell rang for class, Isaac cornered him in the hallway.

"I can't take this anymore, Scott – what's going on with you?" Isaac asked, gripping Scott's forearm like his life force, "I am getting this really bad vibe from you, and it's really messing with me. Is there something going on? Is something bad about to happen?"

Scott couldn't keep it a secret any longer. He held Isaac by the shoulder and led him into the locker room, which was a little more privacy than a bathroom and a lot more privacy than the hallway.

He sat down on one of the locker room benches, holding his head in his hands; he didn't know how to phrase it in a way to make sure that Isaac didn't freak out. Isaac sat down next to him, sensing his stress.

"Do you… do you ever get flashbacks about your father? And about stuff that went down with him?" Scott asked. Isaac nodded lightly, keeping those memories at bay, "I'm getting these… these nightmares, and these quick visions during the day. I have nightmares about hunters slaughtering you guys right in front of me; I get these random visions during the day where I'm seeing you guys being burned alive." Scott bit his lip, "And I can't help these trances – they just happen right out of the blue; there's no trigger or anything that causes them. And they scare me, _because _I don't know what's causing them. I don't know if it's something going on in my head, or if there's something much bigger going on here. I'm… I'm scared, and I don't actually have an answer or a solution to this. It would be a lot less scary if I knew what was going on. I feel like this is the calm before the storm: everything's fine right now. The pack's fine, Stiles is fine, Beacon Hills is _fine_, and that hasn't happened since the whole supernatural thing got thrust into our lives."

By this point, Scott was shaking; he had never felt so weak before. Looking up at Isaac, Scott saw a sort of strength that he had yet to have seen in Isaac; it was sort of exhilarating.

"I've got an idea, if you don't mind me saying so," Isaac started out, standing up, "I say we stay on guard. I don't think these visions and nightmares would be happening if something weren't going on. Especially since you're the alpha; you wouldn't be having foresights about things if something bad wasn't about to happen. We protect Beacon Hills, and we protect what's ours. We just got Stiles' back… I don't want anything bad to happen to our pack again."

It was a little strange, hearing that strength coming from Isaac, but it made sense, too. Isaac valued the pack more than anything else in the world because it was all that he had left in the world. He didn't have a family to speak of anymore; he still resided in the McCall guest room and was nowhere close to being kicked out anytime soon. He valued all members of the pack – human and supernatural – immensely and would protect them with his life if he had to.

"It's just something that's been making me nervous since these visions began happening…" Scott began again, wringing his hands together, "You remember how Stiles started out, right? He hadn't been sleeping and he was having all these nightmares – and he _reeked_ of being sick even though he was physically healthy – and he thought he was loosing his mind-"

"You're not loosing your mind, if that's what you're getting at," Isaac interrupted him, taking a seat again next to him on the locker room bench, "The Nogitsune is gone, and it isn't coming back. We would be able to tell if there was something residing inside of you because we have been through it before."

Scott sighed, "I just can't shake this uneasy feeling I'm getting. I can't explain these visions. I can't explain these nightmares. They just don't make sense."

"We don't have to have all of the answers right now," Isaac said, looking at the row of lockers, "It's like in a chess match: you can anticipate moves, but you don't need to know all of them. All that matters in a game of chess is what you can control. What we can control right now is how the pack is going to recover from this and how we are going to move on from here. We're going to stay on guard, and make sure that nothing else comes our way. And if something else does come, we'll be ready. Beacon Hills is a beacon to the supernatural, so I wouldn't be surprised if there is something already here," Isaac bit his lip, "But we can handle it."

"Thanks, man," Scott said, bro slapping him on the shoulder, "And you're right, whatever is coming our way, we can take it!"

Isaac got up, not exactly comfortable with the whole bromance vibe going on, "If you ever get another vision or nightmare, call me, or come find me. You don't have to face any of this alone. You're an alpha, not an omega; you've got a pack to help you out when you need it. Just remember that. Now come on; we might be werewolves, but we still got to go to Econ."

* * *

End of Chapter Two.


	3. Chapter 3

Uncertainty

A Teen Wolf Fan Fiction

By: dontwaitupxx

* * *

Chapter Three

* * *

Scott was falling asleep, and he was falling asleep hard and fast. It was Econ; it always had a sort of hypnotizing effect on him that just sent him unconscious within twenty minutes of the teacher opening his mouth. It's not that he wasn't getting enough sleep – well, that was a lie. He felt like how Stiles must have felt pre-Nogitsune. He wasn't getting any sleep. Only a couple of hours before the nightmares set in and he saw his pack being ripped apart while he sat and watched. The Nogitsune was gone; there was no reason why his pack had to suffer. And they weren't. Everyone else was still fine and dandy, and Stiles was in the hospital, getting better, gaining weight, and if he had to carry the burden to keep his pack happy, then he would. It was a sort of alpha instinct that he had. He couldn't explain it, it just was. A sort of need to put others before himself.

He felt himself nod off and jerked awake, the room still spinning as he struggled not to fall asleep. It had started raining outside and the outside world had a foggy mist to it, casting the classroom in a shadowy light. Looking to his left, he saw Isaac tapping his foot, a way to keep something moving as waves of anxiety hit him. He got like this more often than Scott would have liked, especially when Allison wasn't around to be with him. Allison was his anchor now, and Scott was okay with it, he _really was. _There was nothing he wanted more than for his pack to be happy, and he and Allison were long broken up. Things weren't painful anymore and they were still able to keep a friendship between them. If Allison made Isaac happy, then he would allow whatever relationship they formed. Love was in the air.

A roll of thunder played in the distance, and shook the ground of the classroom. The teacher paused to whistle a lone note at the thunder, before going back to the lecture.

A sort of ominous vibe entered the room abruptly. It was almost as if an orchestra were lightly trilling in the background, like in the movies. The hairs on the edge of Scott's skin rose up, making him feel uneasy, and almost instantly, Isaac turned around in his seat, sniffing the air lightly, and looking at him as though to ask what was going on. The rest of the students seemed not to notice the change of atmosphere and the teacher continued droning on about uselessness. Suddenly, the rain began to hit hard against the roof and the windows of the school building, drowning out the teacher and the breaths of the students. A clap of thunder sounded overhead, startling the students and the werewolves. A sniff, and Scott could smell anxiety levels to high, and a glance to Isaac confirmed that. Isaac sat there, shaking in his seat, his face pale, a sweat breaking out over his brow. The sound of the rain died down almost completely, before the windows on the side of the classroom cracked and shattered open, glass flying like rain in a storm.

Students screamed and ducked, Scott found himself instinctively crouching down, covering another body with his own. Glass cut through his skin, but healed nearly instantly. Looking up, rain was pouring into the room, and the sound of wind was overwhelming. Squinting through the rain and the sharp wind, he noticed a body and a smell was missing.

Isaac.

A howl pierced through the air. Students covered their ears, and Scott went running. He opened the door into the hallway, following the sound of the howl. The hallways lights were flickering, a sort of fog omitting itself from the ground. As he got closer to where he heard the scream, he heard whispers snaking themselves through the hallways and into his ears.

_Your pack is going to die._

_You won't be able to stop it._

_They will be picked off one by one._

These whispers seemed to slap him across the face, making his wolf come out. His eyes glowed red. His fangs elongated. He heard Isaac yelling. He ran towards it, the hallway seeming to get longer and longer the more he ran down it. The yelling became clearer.

"Scott!"

The same stinging sensation.

"_Scott!_"

Another stinging sensation.

"_Scott!"_

He blinked once and his world before him was instantly altered. Instead of a misty hallway, he saw Isaac kneeled in front of him, hands on his shoulder, shaking him. He wasn't in the hallway, he wasn't in his Econ classroom, he wasn't even in the locker room. He was in the middle of the woods, and by the temperature in the air and the warmness of the colors in the trees around him, it was around midday, probably noon. Instinctively, Scott scooted back against the dirty ground, until his back and head hit against the bark of an unforgiving tree.

"Whoa, easy there. It's just me. Are you with me right now?" Isaac said slowly, gradually moving closer to him. Scott nodded his head slowly, taking in everything. There wasn't a storm, it was a warm sunny day. He wasn't in school, he wasn't even sure if he was in school before this.

"The pack," Scott rasped out, "Is the rest of the pack okay?"

"Scott," Isaac paused, wincing, "The rest of the pack is fine. Are you?"

Was he fine? This was the worst nightmare he had had about his pack, and even though it only included one pack member, he was sure that there would have been more if Isaac hadn't been there to snap him out of it.

"I… I don't know. What happened? How did I get here?" Scott asked, bringing his knees up to his chest, looking down.

Isaac took a seat next to him, "We were sitting in Econ, and you were nodding off, as usual. All of a sudden, you got up and ran out of the classroom. I followed and tried to grab you in the hallway, but you grabbed me, and… and your eyes turned red," Isaac gulped, "I couldn't get your attention, and you kept running. I followed you into the woods. I don't know where you were running to. You were growling and screaming while you were running… it was the most terrifying thing I had ever heard. I tried pinning you down, but you fought against me to get up. It wasn't until I started screaming at you and slapping you that you came back… you were in a trance like state…" Isaac trailed off, clutching his leg.

That brought Scott's attention to his leg. Isaac's jeans were a bright red, a slash in the jeans trailing from the middle of his thigh down to his knee. Scott paled.

"Oh my god, Isaac, did… was that me?"

"Scott, Scott, it's okay…" Isaac tried to rationalize, but Scott quickly went to his leg, Isaac gasping when Scott touched the slash mark on his leg. Black cords of pain shot up Scott's arm at the contact, and he gasped at the pain of it all. He instinctively took his arm away, but with that, Isaac gasped and fell back against a tree, feeling the full agony of the alpha slash with the adrenaline washed away. His face immediately paled, a tremor taking his body as the pain radiated in waves.

"Oh no… oh no, oh no, oh no," Scott kneeled down by his beta, feeling the full weight of the deed hitting him straight in the chest. This was a version of his nightmare coming to life, a version where he hurt his pack. He scooped up the shaking Isaac, grabbing him under his neck and knees, and began running, running towards he direction that seemed like the closest to the animal clinic, extreme fear becoming his most primal instinct.

He ran from the forest, out of the forest, and across streets, around buildings, and just kept running. From inside the forest, in the shadows, a figure stood watching, as her next chess piece fell into place.

* * *

Scott had ran through the back door of the animal clinic, giving no proper preamble for his arrival, but instead simply clearing off a metal table and lying Isaac down on it. Deaton, having heard the commotion, was already in there, cutting off Isaac's jeans in order to get to the slash mark. Scott stood back, and nearly pressed himself up against the wall, as though he could melt through it.

"Scott, what happened?" Deaton asked calmly, almost too calmly, as he cut the jeans off and got to the injury. The slash mark was a murky black, sludgy and slurry, and Scott instantly knew that he wasn't healing. _Why wasn't Isaac healing?_

"_Scott!"_ Deaton said with a little more force, less patience, and less relaxed than before.

How could Scott explain to Deaton that he had attacked his own beta without making it sound like it was his fault? But no – it was his fault. What kind of an alpha would hurt his own beta?

"I… I was in a day dream – a trance, one that I couldn't get out of – and I must have run out of the school, because the dream ended abruptly and all of a sudden I was in the forest, and Isaac was over me, slapping me, trying to get me out of the daze I was in, and he was hurt, and… I must have slashed at him in my dream, and I don't remember it, and it's all my fault, and…" Scott trailed off, his hands shaking.

Deaton remained calm, "Scott, Isaac is going to be fine, but you must know that this injury, since it was caused by an alpha, and his own alpha, mind that, isn't going to heal without your help. I need you to come over here."

Scott stood up on wobbly legs, feeling like anything but the strong alpha that he normally was. He felt ashamed, guilty, and had the overwhelming desire to comfort his beta and make sure he would be alright all the while keeping his distance from him. It was a conflicting emotion for him to have, and he wasn't sure how to handle it.

Scott walked over to the metal table, "Scott, I need you to suck out all of the pain that you can from Isaac. Because this is an alpha wound, the best way to treat it is for that same alpha to take back the pain."

Without a second thought, Scott reached out his hand and touched the area of flesh right below the injury. Instantly, black tendrils shot up his arm, and it was like the pain that he felt back in the woods, but to a more exaggerated extent. About two seconds in, Isaac gasped and his eyes shot open, darting around the room until they fell on Scott, and instantly, his muscles became more relaxed, being in the presence of his alpha.

It didn't make sense to Scott how Isaac could still be so comfortable around him even after he had hurt him. He supposed it had to do with the bond they shared: a child would still love their parents after being reprimanded or after a fight, verbal or physical. Of course, that didn't mean that the child had to like the parent: Isaac was proof enough for that. He had the love for his father deep down because of the bond they shared, as father and son, but that certainly didn't mean that he had to like him. Like and love can exist together, but they also do not need to coexist together.

The pain began to dwindle down, Scott noticed, so he knew he was at the end of the pain he had caused his beta. Looking down, it was amazing to see the recovery that the wound had already made. Any black sludge that was present before was gone, replaced with a faint pink tissue that would scar a human, but looked like it would disappear for Isaac within a couple of hours. Isaac's eyes were glazed over as he basked in the painless bliss. It was quite an amazing power to have as an alpha; to be able to take away most or all of the pain of one of your betas. Surely, however, it wasn't intended to take away pain that one caused their betas.

Deaton's arm came out of nowhere, grabbing Scott's wrist gently and removing it from Isaac's leg. Instantly, fatigue plagued Scott and he found himself fainting slightly to the side. Deaton's grip was firm, leading him over to a chair by the wall, and Scott found a glass of water shoved into his hand, a faint sort of déjà vu hitting him from when his mother gave him and Lydia glasses of water when the paramedics were collecting Stiles.

Deaton bent down and entered Scott's line of vision, "As unlikely as I thought these dreams would be traumatizing, they are having a sort of effect on you and your pack. I'm not sure if this was a one time case, but if these continue to turn violent, then we're going to have to figure out a way to stop them."

"There's something out there, I just know it," Scott rasped out, taking a sip of his water, "I wouldn't be having these dreams and trances if there was nothing going on. Something's about to happen, and it's making me nervous. I feel like something is about to happen to my pack."

A beat, "I'll look into these dreams and trances that you've been having, and I'll see if I can come up with anything," Deaton said, standing up, "Keep in mind though that in light of everything that has happened, the traumatizing events that have happened, I wouldn't be surprised if these dreams were a response to it," Deaton said, "But I'll look into it, and see if anything stands out. But Scott… you need sleep. You're exhausting yourself. Go to the store, get some sleeping pills, something, but just see if you can get more sleep. Half of the problem might be from the lack of sleep. Hallucinations during the day can be directly correlated with a lack of sleep."

Rather than arguing, Scott said, "There's something out there. Something is about to happen."

Deaton sighed, "And if there is, we'll figure out what it is, and stop it from happening. But for now, you need to worry about rehabilitating your pack. Even supernatural beings deserve a break."

A break. Wouldn't it be swell if Beacon Hills got a break…

* * *

-End of Chapter Three-


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